Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I know I should’ve followed his lead upstairs, or at the very least have a shower, but by the time I finish cleaning up, I’m slightly distracted by the music choice that’s spilling out from the lounge. The lounge is connected to the kitchen through a small atrium-style room. The ceiling is clear, perfect for stargazing at night and always catches the perfect daylight. I enter the living room, finding Devon dancing around the room, swiping white powder off his nose.
“Why are you playing in the snow?” I raise my eyebrows. “What happened to just weed?”
“Heaven Upside Down” by Marilyn Manson vibrates through the room as he dances toward me, moving his hips with the beat. When he’s close enough, he leans into my ear and sniffs. “You smell like sex, that’s why.”
My stomach falls to the ground. I know Devon has always felt a certain way about me. The connection between us sexually was nothing short of toxic, but now I’m beginning to think that he’s headed down a path that not even I could bring him back from.
I push off from the doorframe, ready to head for a shower when he calls out to me.
“Party tonight.”
“Celebrating what?” I ask, turning my head over my shoulder.
He grins at me while rolling a hundred-dollar bill between his fingers. “You’ll see.”
Later that night, I’m brushing all the tangles out of my hair when my door swings open and Max stands on the other side. My mouth is now healed, thank god, but my ass cheeks are still tender and I’ve just lost a whole bunch of hair thanks to Bryant’s savagery.
I sigh. “I’m getting really pissed off at all the testosterone that lingers around this house.”
Max chuckles, entering my space while seemingly interested in taking in what little things I have scattered around the place. “I thought Bryant had a sister?”
I freeze mid eyeliner, my hand hovering over my eye. It takes me a beat to recollect myself. “She’s not around.” I continue with lining my eyes. Leave it alone.
“Your room is plain.”
“I’m a minimalist.” Spinning around, I tilt my head. “What do you want? I’m still slightly repulsed by what happened between us.”
He grunts, dropping down onto the bed, his hands on his face. “I’m sorry I lied to you. Had I known you were my sister—”
“—half.”
“Half-sister,” he corrects, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand. “I would have gone about things a lot differently.”
I tighten the silk robe around my waist.
“Are you going down to the party Devon has thrown?” he asks, looking me up and down, confused.
I slip a pair of Valentino heels out from beneath my chair. “Yes.”
“Like that?” he asks, his eyebrow quirked. I’m comfortable around Max, which I shouldn’t be. It’s frightening how easily I’ve adapted to his presence, as if my soul recognizes him now. Naïve bitch.
I take myself in in the mirror, running the palm of my hand down the black boudoir robe. Embroidery stitches are woven into the cuffs, the rest of the material transparent. A red lace bra lifts my tits up and tiny little red panties are holding together my inflamed ass cheeks.
Rolling my eyes, I shrug. “They’ve both pissed me off to epic proportions. Catch on, Max, this is how I make them hurt.”
“This is how you get them back in line?” Max laughs, shaking his head. “Devon was right. You are going to kill us all.”
Turning around, I pick up my martini glass and take a sip. “Is there something you know that I don’t? If you want to earn my trust, it will start here.”
Max runs his hand over his thick beard, standing to his ridiculous height. Now that I know he’s my half-brother, I see the resemblance to my father. Not in a disturbing way, more in a way of God apologizing for my piece of shit dad and giving me Max instead. Maybe. I’ve been epically let down by almost every single person who is supposed to be my family.
Max seems to battle with his words, his face twisting in distress. Suddenly the lines around his eyes soften and he lets out a loud gasp of breath. “It’s Bryant.”
“What’s Bryant?” I ask, tilting my head.
His eyes come to mine. “He’s running for president.”
Dreams aren’t free. They cost you countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears.
-Isa
“He what?” I whisper, blinking. “What? He can’t—he’s—”
“—been building his campaign since before you came back.” I think over Max’s words, even though I know he has more to tell me. I’m partially annoyed because I would have liked to hear this from Bryant, and then wholly annoyed that he tried to keep yet another secret from me. The only thing that doesn’t make sense to me right now is the fact that Devon is throwing a party.
Devon throwing a party isn’t something that you want happening if you’re running for president, and the other? Is the fact that I can’t help but feel like there’s something else Bryant isn’t telling me.